Free At Last
by lovezooey
Summary: Gold gets his Belle, but nothing worth having is without obstacles.   Spoilers for Skin Deep.  Rating headed to potential 'M' territory.
1. Chapter 1

Free At Last

_* Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to OUAT or below._  
><em>* Warning(s): Spoilers for Skin Deep<em>  
><em>* Summary: Mr. Gold sees Belle for the first time.<em>  
><em>* Notes: First public writing  fanfic EVER, and terribly intimidated by all the amazing Rum/Gold/Belle fic already out there - so pls be kind. :-) Already dreaming of the next ep. with Rum./Mr Gold & Belle, so idle thoughts brought me this… _

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><p>He stood in the doorway, his anger twisting around his relief. She was real. She was here. And she was whole .<p>

His eyes scanned the bare concrete cell. Of course, Regina wouldn't have dared to torture her as in the old way, not here in Storybrooke where there was so much for her to lose. But still… his eyes drifted back to Belle, her face tear-streaked and her look confused. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw as he remembered there were more acceptable ways to torture a person these days.

"Come, lass," he said gruffly, turning his head away. She deserved more than stares and pity. "This isn't the place for you."

Belle cringed, her gaze darting between him, the open door and the ray of sunlight behind her. "They say I'm sick," she whispered, her voice coarse from disuse. She cleared it and spoke again, stronger this time, but still hesitantly. "Where am I supposed to go?"

Mr. Gold glanced back over his shoulder at Emma. Her disapproving frown spoke volumes, but thanks to a favor owed and a deal struck, she remained silent, even as a quirked eyebrow dared him to overstep the bounds of their careful agreement.

He looked back into the cell and shifted his weight to ease the pain in his leg. "Your father…," he began, and glanced down as he stifled his fury. Something deep inside him growled menacingly at the thought of her meekly returning to her father, but the suggestion was the sheriff's only request and it would have have been more trouble to argue it.

Belle shook her head. "No." Her pale hands balled into fists. "Never."

Mr. Gold nodded grimly even as his white-knuckled grip on his cane relaxed. He understood, even if no one else did.

He drew in a slow breath to steady himself before speaking.

"I have a spare guest house and need of an assistant." Behind him, he heard the sheriff cough uncomfortably and he allowed himself a small smile. If she thought this was awkward, he could only imagine her reaction to the truth of his history with Belle.

Belle caught the crook of his smile, and returned it with a weak one of her own, almost hidden from behind an unruly lock of brown hair. "Yes." She stared at the ground for a moment before raising her eyes to his again. "Yes, I would like that. To start over…" she trailed off, her gaze becoming slightly unfocused again, almost dream-like.

Mr. Gold held out a hand to her wordlessly. Belle unfolded herself from her crouch with that unmistakable grace that no amount of medication could hide, and came towards him, her bare feet silent on the cold floor. She tenatively placed her small soft hand in his, and then surprised him by turning his hand over, examining it almost absently before looking up at him with a sad smile.

"You must be my knight, then," she said, her blue eyes stealing his breath. "For rescuing me." There was the faintest trace of her old jesting in the statement and he felt something break inside of him.

He exhaled a heavy breath and smiled warmly at her. "Aye, a knight then." He offered his arm and together they walked out.

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><p><em>* Again, first time writer, so pls forgive any trespasses on protocol and all that.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Truly floored by all the kind words of encouragement. Tossing one-shot out the window. Thrilled to be here, thank you for being you. [I do not own OUAT.] _

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><p>Without missing a beat, Belle pushed the car door open and slipped out, her face glowing as she stood in the wet grass, wiggling her toes. Mr. Gold eased slowly out after her, feeling his age as he set his cane first to take the weight off his bad leg.<p>

"Hey, wait." He turned impatiently to the sheriff, who twisted around from the driver's seat to face him.

Emma glanced past him out the window to look at Belle before speaking. "I know you think I helped you out back there, but they really didn't have the records or proof to hold her like that." She paused, and he found her ability to backpedal remarkable. "I mean, this isn't over," she sighed. "As soon as Regina…" She glanced up at the rearview mirror and swore, just as a black car pulled up to the curb behind the police car.

"Ah, just in time," Mr. Gold said with a smile. "Excuse me, Sheriff."

He carefully exited the sheriff's car and turned to face the mayor.

To her credit, she did not storm up to him as she had previously, but this time sauntered up the sidewalk: a show pony in a business suit. Perfectly coifed and lipsticked, she reeked of stale magic, and he instinctively stepped to one side to place himself between her and Belle. The irony of his own action was hardly lost on him; it would be tough to decide whose soul was more sullied in the long run, his or Regina's.

Her eyes flickered to the suddenly wary brunette and then back to him, and she smiled that saccharine smile. "How are you feeling, dear?," she asked Belle, her eyes entirely on him.

Behind him, he felt the brush of Belle's arm as she tensed at the sound of the mayor's silken voice. His mind wandered against his will, through thoughts of what Regina might have said or done to her in all this time, in both this world and the last. He shoved the useless emotion away quickly and gave Regina a predatory smile in return.

"Oh, no need to worry," he said, coolly. "She's feeling much better already, as you can see." His expansive gesture clearly took in Sheriff Swan, perched in the doorway of her police car, silently observing their interaction.

Regina's expression froze into a sour smile. "Well, good," she said, in a dull tone that implied it was anything but. "Unfortunately, she's still considered much too ill to be released at this time." She smiled thinly and gave Emma a perfunctory nod. "Sheriff Swan, if you would please escort her back to the hospital…"

To her credit, despite looking uncomfortable, Emma didn't back down. Her stance leaning over the roof of the car implied that she wasn't about to apprehend anyone. "I'm sorry, Madam Mayor," she began, "but there just wasn't enough evidence…" She waved a hand at Belle, who stood shivering, but oddly detached, watching them discuss her future like plans for a dinner party. "I mean, she's entirely coherent and there's been nothing of violence or hallucinations, nothing like what was written on her records initially. She isn't even on any medication for things like that anymore, according to her charts, just sedatives." Emma sounded uncertain, but genuinely baffled, and Mr. Gold was delighted to see Regina's mouth twitch in a subtle scowl over this news. He truly did not envy the nurses and doctors who had let the mayor down.

"Well, Madam Mayor, I'm incredibly grateful for your concern," he said lightly, stepping forward with a small bow. "But we are doing quite well," he slipped a wink at Belle in reassurance, "and would be happy to have visitors once we've had a chance to settle in a bit." He smiled at Regina. "Perhaps you might like to come by for a cup of tea."

The mayor's smile fell flat. "Yes, well." She tried to keep the sneer from her face, but he could see the disgust written all over. "I'm not much of a tea-drinker."

"Of course," Mr. Gold said, politely.

With a final look that suggested this was far from over, she got back into her car. As it sped off, Emma gave him a stern look. "Tomorrow, Dr. Hopper's. Eleven a.m."

He inclined his head in acquiescence, leaning on his cane with both hands. "I remember our deal, Sheriff Swan."

She looked somewhat mollified and tried to smile at Belle. "Well. Alright then." She slid into the driver's seat and slowly pulled away from the curb, watching them from the side view mirror.

With a tired sigh, he turned back to his house, only to see Belle looking at him in that bold way she had: from under her eyelashes, but without fear or timidity, like she had figured him out in the hour they had spent together. There was no thought in her eyes for the faint drizzle beginning to fall, or the cold of the wet earth beneath her bare feet. Instead, she walked through the mud and sparse grass towards him, her eyes slowly lighting with a thoughtful curiosity.

He felt something cringe away in his soul at that honest look and he again offered her his arm, friendly but not quite meeting her eyes. "Come, dear," he said, "let's get something warm in you."

She slipped her arm in his and he felt her warmth spread through him at her touch. So real. So gloriously real… no. He gripped the handle of the cane hard and pushed off it with a little extra jerk. It was too easy for him to fall into old habits.

They climbed the steps and he unlocked the door and motioned her inside. He closed the door behind them and turned on the lights in the entryway.

"The kitchen is off to the right here and the…," he began, as he removed his coat and dropped his cane in a stand by the door before noticing her frozen stance.

She had paused just inside, looking down in dismay at her muddy feet on the elaborate Persian rug . "Oh, no."

"What's wrong," he asked, looking down, and then shook his head. "It's just a bit of dirt. No worries."

She was shaking her head, and the messy brown waves tumbling about her shoulders shook. Before he could stop himself, he had reached out and tipped her face up to the dim hall light, and was surprised to find her crying.

"Oh, no need for tears," he said, awkwardly. "It's just a rug." His hand brushed against her cheek, and his thumb stroked her jawline once before pulling back.

He cursed himself again for it all. His mistakes knew no bounds, each preceded by yet an earlier mistake. He should have looked for her in this life, he should have looked for her in the last. He should have questioned Regina, killed the queen instead of dealing with her. He should never have fallen for her, should never have even bargained for her in the first place.

But he had. And she had paid such a price for it.

Her shoulders were shivering under his hands, and he snapped his attention back to the present. She was cold and needed a hot bath and a bed. A true knight, a whole man he thought bitterly, would simply sweep her off her muddy little feet to the bathroom upstairs. He ground his teeth in frustration, shifting his weight by habit. He may own the town, but it was a steep price with such a weak body and no magic.

"Wait here," he said, his voice rough as he pulled his hands away, painfully aware of the loss of contact with her. He limped into the kitchen and grabbing a towel from the sideboard, soaked it under hot water from the tap before returning to the hallway. Ungracefully, he sank to his good knee before her and began to wipe the clods of dirt from her feet.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say, breaking the silence. "You shouldn't… you've been so kind…"

"It's nothing." He cut her off and gathered the dirty kitchen towel in one hand, reaching for the side table to help himself up.

He felt her hand under his elbow, her other arm wrapped about his waist and with a gentle tug, he was standing again. His heart fluttered like a trapped bird as he found himself looking down into blue eyes in a perfect heart-shaped face.

"No," she said, firmly, taking the towel from his hand. "It's not nothing." There was a fierce light in her eyes and he was distracted by how he could smell her, how she smelled the same. Earth and rain and something that was just her.

She took his hand in hers and looked down at it. "You know, you're the only one who hasn't asked me what I remember," she said quietly before looking up at him. "It's like you don't care if I remember or not…" She frowned and paused, as if recognizing that memory wasn't quite right. Her gaze searched his face intently. "Like you won't think less of me either way."

He looked back at her as he fought the feelings back down, schooling his gaze into something attentive, yet empty.

"What I mean is," she tried again, uncertainly this time, "I just wanted to say, 'thank you'."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and turned to the stairs. He climbed them slowly, each aching step feeling like a burning renewal of his vow to never hurt her again. He would give her everything she deserved and more, even if that meant denying himself the one thing he desired.

At the top of the stairs, he motioned to his right. "This is the bathroom. There's towels and everything…" He pointed to the door at the end of the hall. "That's your room through there. If you need anything, please just… help yourself."

She nodded, a sad smile. "Yes. Thank you." Her lips were parted as if she wanted to say more, but he turned away and pushed open his room door, before looking back over his shoulder at her. "Miss French?"

She stood in the same spot, a damp spot forming around her on the carpet. "Yes, Mr. Gold?"

"You're very welcome."

She pressed her lips together and gave a small nod, before heading down the hallway.

He closed his eyes briefly and exhaled slowly, then closed the door quietly.

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed. Thoughts, suggestions, reviews always appreciated. -lovezooey<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Have been frozen by reading all the other amazing Rumbelle fic out there and am woefully intimidated. My deepest apologies for the long, drawn-out "Room With A View" vibe and the spaces in-between. _

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><p><em>She leans in and brushes her lips to his. He can taste the honey on her tongue from her tea, and as he moves towards her to return the kiss, the warmth spreads across his face like a ray of sunlight.<em>

_This time, though, he knows he's dreaming and stifles the panic of her stealing his power. There's no Queen here, only Belle and her love, impossible as it seems. He's had this dream before and clings to the moment of their shared kiss for as long as he dares. _

_But this time, the flush of heat spreads further, across his head and shoulders, and then sweeps over him completely in a sudden blinding light and he's falling… _

_He's standing in a deserted town, on a wet street strewn with autumn leaves, in a suit and a coat, a familiar cane beneath his hands. And she's behind him in that blue dress and a traveling cloak, a basket of straw in her hands. _

_It doesn't seem right, but his attention is drawn to the mist coalescing before him, green and black and a swirl of ominous red. Regina, a smug smile on her face and a glowing heart in her hand…_

_The terror washes over him. A enemy before him and a prized possession behind him and he's weak and human and without magic, powerless to protect what matters most. He can't tell if it's her spell or his own fear that wraps around his throat, but he's struggling to shout for Belle to run, to breathe…_

He woke up in a cold sweat and sat up in bed, crushing the heel of his hand against his eye socket. The dream echoed in his head. He looked at the clock, then the lightening sky out the window, giving up on sleep. No point in lying in bed for an extra hour or so.

He showered and changed into his suit of the day and as he limped down the stairs, paused at the light from the kitchen.

Of course, he had remembered Belle was in his house, but the reality of it was quite different. She was curled up on the corner bench of the breakfast nook, one hand wrapped around a mug of tea, and the other holding open a book against her bare knee. Her hair was freshly washed and still wet, a jumble of brown tangles.

What stole the words he had planned was the fact that she was wearing his bathrobe.

She was so riveted by what she was reading that she didn't notice him until he managed to cleared his looked up with a trace of excitement in her eyes, and he reeled from the memory of that look. It was as if she was looking directly at you without seeing you, instead seeing the world imagined through words on paper, lingering over reality for a few seconds longer before fading. He'd seen her look up at him like that too often when he had walked into the library, or any time she was buried in a book. The familiarity of it, of her looking at him through her vivid imagination on fire, made his heart ache and he steeled himself against the fresh pain.

"Found something worth reading, I see." He looked away from her and reached for the tea kettle. She flipped the book over on the table, and stood, carefully holding the front of the robe closed.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I should have asked, but I couldn't sleep and it was so early…" She looked down at the robe. "I couldn't bear to put on the clothes from before and… this was in the bathroom. I hope it's okay."

"Of course." He concentrated on steadying his hands as he measured out the tea for the pot. "But, if you would like, there are more suitable clothes for you in the closet in your room." He didn't need to look at her to feel her curiosity and confusion. "Don't overthink it, my dear," he said, pouring the hot water. "It was only a phone call or two as soon as I found you."

There was a weighty silence in the air as she processed that and then spoke. He was surprised at the lack of accusation in her tone, but that was Belle, always surprising him. "You knew I would go with you." It was a statement, as neutral as he could have delivered. He turned to look at her, a cup of tea in his hand. "Not exactly," he said, taking a sip. "But I was reasonably sure you did not want to go… home."

She stiffened at the word, and her chin came up slightly, though she avoided his eyes. "No."

"Right." He set his cup down. "Well, then. Best get ready for the day, and we can get started." He looked at her expectantly. Neutrally. She smiled slightly and nodded, then slipped around him and headed up the stairs.

He waited until he heard her room door close before picking up the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice, second edition. He put it down. Of course, she would simply love Jane Austen. He made a mental note to acquire a few more classics for her as he finished his tea, the glow of sunrise beginning to spill over the windowsill before him.

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><p><em>There's more, but only until OUAT gets back on a major Rumbelle storyline. Thank you for taking the time to read, and for being you. <em>


	4. Chapter 4

_I apologize for the overwhelming fluffiness and sad lack of plot in the preceding chapters. I shall attempt to remedy this… now. _

_Warning: Potentially headed towards 'M' territory. Changing rating. _

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><p>[Regina]<p>

She had just returned to the Winter Palace. It had been a long ride, made longer by those ungrateful peasants with their sour faces in every tiny little village. Didn't they realize that she was their rightful queen and far stronger than that pathetic father of Snow's? _Ugh, Snow._ Nothing ruined her day more than that horrible child. She ripped her heavy traveling cloak from her shoulders and flung it at a passing servant as she swept towards her quarters. A hot bath would soothe her…

She flicked a wrist towards her room doors and they opened before her. To her surprise, silhouetted before the fireplace was a lean figure, a wide brandy snifter in hand, his curly hair in a disarray against a wide collar. The Queen felt a rush of warmth run through her, and she couldn't help the blush that rose to her cheeks. He was wearing those tight leather pants she loved so dearly.

"Why, hello," she said, her mood changing in a flash. He turned to her, his glittering face unusually pensive. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but as he came towards her, she tried to put aside her suspicious nature and remember him as she knew him: handsome under that cursed skin, incredibly powerful with magic, and entirely wicked in bed.

He stopped to pick up another glass from the side table and poured a bit for her before handing her the glass. She took it and slid her arm around his neck, her eyes locked on his as she took a slow sip. "I didn't expect to see you tonight." Her fingers wove into the tangled hair at the nape of his neck and she smiled as she leaned in to kiss him.

…and was stunned when he turned his head away, his eyes closed.

The Queen felt the cold gather around her and drew back slowly, pulling on her magic quietly as her suspicion returned. She lifted her chin defensively as she calculated their change in circumstances. How dare he, she thought, shoving her fury down as far away as she could. Her anger was like lightning, but he was a formidable sorcerer and a reckless fight with him was not a good idea. No, she needed more information first…

"Hmm," she said, as she walked towards the bath. She slipped out of her black silk dress, her back to him. She could see him in the mirror opposite her and he was staring down into his glass, his face impassive. She slowly unlaced her black corset as she formulated her next words, and pulling it off along with her grey satin shift, she stepped into the bath and sank down into the soapy foam with a small sigh.

She waited a moment before speaking . "Would you like to talk about it?" Her voice was deceptively mild.

Rumplestiltskin turned around, the surprised look on his face quickly replaced with a flash of lust for her near nakedness, and just as quickly followed by that confounding look of stony stoicism. The Queen fought the urge to grind her teeth in frustration as she forced herself to smile invitingly instead.

"Or would you just care to join me… again?"

His reptilian eyes met hers hungrily, and he glowered just a quick as he recognized her deviousness. "Ah, a tempting proposition, my Queen, but perhaps not tonight…" There was a passing cloud of something more serious across his features before he grinned at her. "In fact, I came by to tell you that you no longer need to pretend to be interested in any…" he hummed a little, "extra services."

The Queen scowled at him. "We had a deal," she said sharply, coyness forgotten.

"Of course, of course," Rumplestiltskin said quickly, rubbing his hands together. "Our deal still stands. I simply… owe you a favor."

A favor from Rumplestiltskin? She relaxed a little, settling back in the water. "Of my choosing," she bargained, as she kept her eyes on the devious little imp. "With no argument or loopholes." She waved a hand in the air, sprinkling little drops of water across the stone floor.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and bowed low quite floridly.

The Queen smiled. It was incredibly nice to have this powerful little magician in her power. The warm bath felt incredible and she amended the thought to include, _and in my bed…_ She frowned at the unexpected change in that arena. Of course, he was mildly repulsive with that unnatural skin and those disgusting teeth, but he was reasonably skilled at pleasuring a woman and those long, nimble fingers… She shivered in the warm water.

"So why no extra… _favors_," she asked nonchalantly, as she lifted an arm from the water to smooth a soft washcloth over it.

Rumplestiltskin looked away for a moment before walking up to the bath and taking a seat on the stool before her. He took a swig of the brandy in his hand, and then toyed with his glass before setting it down next to hers on the side table.

"I'm no longer… interested," he said carefully, matching her falsely nonchalant tone. He gave her a long, serious look and then stared at the empty glass again.

The Queen dropped her eyes, carefully controlling her rage as she ran her fingers through the bath foam. No longer interested? She was the Queen! There was no one more powerful, more beautiful than her. They had an agreement, an alliance. A powerful alliance, damn it. The Queen clenched her jaw. Together, they were unstoppable. Separate…

She eased back further in the tub and resisted the urge to sweep the glass between them to the floor. Separate, she would crush him. She let the silence settle for so long that he slowly stood up and turned towards the door.

"So, who is she," she asked, her voice deceptively quiet.

He didn't turn around, but paused mid-step, his head tilted towards her. "She's no one."

"Is it that new girl I heard you took in?" She bit her lip, but she couldn't help herself.

But he had frozen and was quiet, and the Queen smiled bitterly to herself. Of course, it would be some girl.

"Well, really, Rumple," she continued, as if unconcerned. "We were never mutually exclusive." She tossed the washcloth aside and stood up. "Could you hand me that towel," she asked, feigning innocence. "Please."

He turned and looked at her and she caught his gaze that he knew exactly what she was doing. He pulled the towel from the shelf and tossed it at her.

The Queen caught it and gave him a chilly smile, and slowly stepped from the bath as she wrapped herself in it. She pondered her next move briefly and then stepped up to him, her wet feet leaving traces on the warm stone floor.

They were a good match in height for each other, she thought, as they stood eye to eye. She could feel the slight tingle of magic coming from him and felt a tinge of sadness that he was on guard around her suddenly. They hadn't been this way for months and it had been a nice, unexpected truce. It was a pity, really. He was the first in a long time that had felt like almost her equal. Almost.

She instinctively reached up to finger a curl of his grey brown hair. He looked down at her with those strange eyes and she swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. _How could he do this to her…_ Her fingers trembled and suddenly he had caught her hand in his, thin and calloused, but warm and strong. That contact was all it took. The tears welled up in her eyes and suddenly she was falling into his arms, the silk of his shirt clinging to her wet skin and she shook silently against the smooth leather of his vest, fighting the choking sobs. His arms came up around her and for a frozen moment in time, she felt safe. Sad and alone again, but safe. She knew him, knew that he understood this moment of weakness, this particular weakness of love, and love lost. She felt his long fingers slowly caressing her damp hair and she gathered herself together. This was done. It was time to move on.

The queen pulled back and Rumplestiltskin's hands fell to his sides. They stood there, mere inches apart, silent.

It felt so surreal, she thought. "We used to know each other so well." She almost said this to herself rather than him.

He cleared his throat before replying. "Things change." He paused. "Your Majesty."

She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. Amazing, really, how it only took two words from his lips to drive home just how over they really were.

"Go. Now." She pulled the towel tighter against her naked body and turned her back on him.

She waited for the click of the door closing before she collapsed in tears on the hard floor.

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><p>"We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold. Has it really come down to this?" Regina gazed at him through the bars of the jail.<p>

"It seems that it has, yeah." How he could still be mocking her after all this time...

Regina felt the tingle of magic in the cup and suppressed it hard before handing it over.

"Such a sentimental little keepsake," she said, teasing him with it between the bars.

"Thank you," he replied. "Your Majesty," he added, bitingly. He snatched the damn thing like it was life itself, and she fumed inside that such a trite object could be so precious to him. She wished she had broken it first and handed him it in little shards of porcelain instead.

"So now that we're being honest with each other," he said, turning the chipped cup around in his hands, "let's remember how things used to be, shall we?" He fixed her with a scathing look. "And don't let these bars fool you, dear. I'm the one with the power around here. I'm going to be out of here in no time," he said. His eyes locked on hers. "And nothing between us will change." Each word was a veiled promise and threat tangled together and she stifled the memory of when that tone was filled with lust and desire in the darkness…

She leaned in close to the bars, her desire for revenge still her last warm comfort. "We shall see," she said slowly, threateningly. As she walked out, she closed her eyes for a moment as she reveled in her triumph. The trap was set, the pit baited…

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><p><em>Likey-likey? Reviews make my day. Love and hugs. <em>


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